


tell me love is endless

by charlottepriestly



Series: Music Of The Heart [7]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottepriestly/pseuds/charlottepriestly
Summary: "I could not bear to lose you, because in losing you I would lose myself."
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: Music Of The Heart [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/884622
Comments: 35
Kudos: 171





	tell me love is endless

**Author's Note:**

> Highly recommend listening to these songs by Billie Eilish, since they set the tone perfectly for this fic, which I wrote because of the inspiration the music gave me. Some of the lyrics are tweaked to fit better though hehe
> 
> I Love You:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiinVuzh4DA
> 
> Listen Before I Go:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4z1O3miesI
> 
>   
> Also Elle told me to put a disclaimer saying this fic is Angsty with a capital A. But if you know my other work, then you know this will _not_ have a tragic ending. 
> 
> I wrote this in a single afternoon so I really really hope you enjoy it. Thank you to my beta Elle for putting herself through this.
> 
> Much love to everyone x

**Part One**

_It's not true_

_Tell me I've been lied to_

_Crying isn't like you_

_What the hell did I do?_

_Never been the type to_

_Let someone see right through._

  
  


She’s not entirely sure how it has come to this. Ever since it started between them, Miranda has hoped that it would last. It was so easy to get swept up in Andrea, to be persuaded by her firm certainty that they would be together for as long as they both live.

Seven years. This is her longest marriage yet, surpassing all of the others in both longevity and happiness, and Miranda took that as an indication that Andrea was the one.

 _Foolish old woman_.

For almost two years now, everything has been strained between them. They used to be able to talk about anything and everything for hours and hours at a time. Now it’s like they don’t know how to hold a conversation. They hardly see each other, and when they do there's an ache inside Miranda that cuts deeper than anything she's felt before. They’ve drifted apart so much that the distance between them seems infinite and unbridgeable.

Andrea’s eyes no longer have the radiant warmth that used to always make Miranda’s heart twist and grow. She doesn’t seek the comfort of her embrace anymore, doesn’t attempt to make plans the way they used to. Their bed doesn’t feel like a marriage bed anymore. It’s devoid of intimacy and passion, of whispered hopes and worries, of shared pasts and intertwined futures. She wishes she understood why everything has turned cold and quiet between them.

Maybe it’s because they’re both too swept up in work. Andrea is getting a lot of recognition for her articles, and sometimes gets home even later than Miranda does. Miranda, too, has been busy thwarting another coup by Irv and it has taken nearly a year to prepare for that particularly unpleasant battle. They’ve hardly had time for each other in what feels like forever. Co-ordinating their schedules is like trying to solve an impossible rubik’s cube, and whenever Miranda manages to find free time, Andrea’s eyes are so vacant that part of her desperately wants to hide, to lock herself away from everything until she can decipher why this is happening to them.

Or maybe it’s because love isn’t made to last. It loses its life-force, dims until it disappears completely. Maybe Miranda is just not worthy of it and Andrea deserves someone better.

If she were forced to guess, she supposes it all changed after the girls left. The house feels empty without them in it. Once upon a time, Miranda had hope that she would suffer through the departure of her daughters with Andrea by her side. Her wife's presence would give her the love she’d lack in the absence of the girls. She would chase away any loneliness and melancholy that Miranda would be overcome by.

The reality is much different to what she’d hoped. She feels more alone than ever. 

She is still trying to figure out how it’s possible to feel so isolated when you’re married to someone you’ve been in love with for almost a decade. She is still trying to understand what she did wrong, why all her attempts at closing the unbearable distance between herself and Andrea are futile.

One thing is for certain: she will keep on trying. As long as there is breath in her body, she is going to keep trying.

The door to their bedroom opens. Andrea steps through looking tired and worn out. It’s late, Miranda realises as she glances at the clock. She’d been ready to turn off the lamp since she’s just finished going over The Book. But now Andrea is here, the air between them stilted with unspoken words, so Miranda leaves the light on. While Andrea's in the bathroom, she twirls the golden band on her left ring finger, around and around and around. It’s a nervous habit, but a comforting one. A reminder that despite everything, they’re still together. There’s still hope.

The expression on Andrea’s face as she crawls into bed is not one Miranda has ever seen before. She knows all of Andrea’s expressions, the minute gestures that show joy or sadness or regret, but this one seems to be a combination of too many things to name.

The silence stretches out between them. Miranda doesn't say anything, in case Andrea needs the silence. She does not want to make things worse. She gazes at her hands clasped tightly on her lap, the wedding ring glinting under the light as it loops around her finger in infinite circles.

Endless moments later, Andrea turns her head to face her, her eyes so sullen that Miranda has a terrible, sinking feeling in her abdomen.

“Loving you hurts me all the time.”

The words pierce through Miranda. The sharpened blade makes it hard to breathe as it tears through her ribs and in between her lungs.

Andrea turns away, curling in upon herself. Miranda is frozen in place, staring at the back of her head in speechless anguish. Any words she could say are weighed down by the dread that consumes her. The flame of hope she’s always protected with everything she has flickers with fragility and dies out until the flames are extinguished. All that remains are the ashes, dark and broken and alone.

_Maybe won't you take it back,_

_Say you were trying to make me laugh_

_And nothing has to change today,_

_You didn't mean to say I love you._

_I love you,_

_And I don't want to._

It’s only a matter of time now.

Ever since the night Andrea revealed the pain that comes from loving someone like her, she has been expecting it. The day Andrea will leave.

She knows it’s inevitable. It’s what everyone does in the end. She tries not to dwell on how much it hurts, how disappointed she is that her faith in Andrea has been crushed by the cruelty of reality. Of course she’ll leave. Why would she stay?

So she braces herself. Every day she expects to come home from work to find Andrea gone, or packing her things, or waiting for her with the papers. She tries not to let her grief consume her, but it is difficult to not fall apart. There is a countdown on their marriage, and Miranda knows she only has a handful of seconds left. Part of her wants to make the most of them, to try to salvage what is left of their love.

But she cannot. She is defeated. She is too tired- too _weak_ to keep fighting. She does not want to continue hurting Andrea.

There is no more hope left in her, but she desperately wishes she could go back to a happier time. To return to the days where she would wake up in the safety of Andrea’s arms, the sun filtering through the curtains and warming Miranda’s skin. She wants to succumb to the naive belief that their happiness would last forever. But she cannot keep fooling herself, no matter how much she wants to live in sweet, blissful ignorance.

It’s only a matter of time until Andrea leaves with Miranda’s heart in her hands.

_Maybe we should just try_

_To tell ourselves a good lie,_

_Didn't mean to make you cry._

No matter how much she has braced herself for this, nothing could have prepared her for the moment when she gets home from work to find Andrea packing her belongings.

It is a strange sensation. For a moment she is overcome by the cold claws of grief until Andrea looks at her with her vacant eyes. Then all she feels is numb.

She cannot watch Andrea erase herself from her life, so Miranda hides in the den by the foyer. The blanket she throws over herself does nothing to dull the ice that has seeped into her bones. She stares lifelessly into space, listening to the sound of Andrea’s footsteps on the floor above.

Her whiskey glass is half empty by the time Andrea walks down the stairs with two large suitcases. Miranda stands and goes towards the foyer, watching Andrea pull on her coat. She feels frozen in place. Her body doesn’t feel like her own.

With trembling fingers, Andrea takes off the engagement ring that Miranda spent countless hours dwelling over all those years ago. The wedding ring comes off next. Miranda feels nothing as Andrea places them on the table with the flowers. Brown eyes look at her one last time, and Miranda commits Andrea’s face to memory. Any words she wants to say fail her, lodged somewhere in her throat, lost to the haze that has possessed her.

Andrea turns, opens the door, and walks away.

For the rest of the evening, Miranda tries to wrap her mind around the fact that Andrea is gone. It is difficult to do so, because she feels dazed and fractured. It’s like she’s been mutilated, but does not feel herself bleed. She wanders aimlessly around the big, empty house. Every room seems distorted and wrong.

When she reaches the bedroom, Miranda sees the half-empty closet, dark and gaping like the hole in her chest. Andrea’s pillow still smells of her, the scent clinging to it almost as tightly as Miranda cradles it against herself. Underneath the numbness that plagues her, she feels an underlying current of something forceful and terrifying.

It’s physically painful to remain in the room they once shared, so she hides away in her study and falls asleep on the sofa with the hope that when she wakes, none of this will be real. 

She dreams of her. Of being in her arms. The dream is so real that she feels the love they used to share beating like a beautiful, invincible, living thing between them. Andrea’s smile is bright and joyful. Miranda has missed it so dearly. Her laughter is honest in a way it hasn’t been in a terribly long time. Miranda can practically hear Andrea’s voice calling her name, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear until she feels alight with blissful happiness.

Reality rushes to torment her when she jerks awake. It is cold and deathly quiet. The elation of the dream drains out of her as her mind recalls the events of the evening. A dawning weight presses against her from all sides. The sense of loss is so sharp that she feels as though her chest is caving in on itself, crumbling like the remains of a broken fortress. She wonders if it’s possible to die of grief.

The tears come then. She doesn't feel numb anymore, but she wishes desperately to go back to the feeling of nothingness. The sobs tear through her with unrelenting force until she can hardly draw breath. She wishes she could drown herself in sorrow until she can’t feel anything at all, because she is certain of one thing.

Andrea is gone. She left, and a vast piece of Miranda left with her.

_We fall apart as it gets dark,_

_I'm in your arms in Central Park,_

_There's nothing you could do or say_

_I can't escape the way I love you._

_I don't want to,_

_But I love you._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Two**

2 Years Later 

_Take me to the rooftop_

_I wanna see the world when I stop breathing,_

_Turning blue._

_Tell me love is endless, don't be so pretentious._

_Leave me,_

_Like you do._

This used to be their favourite place. They'd spend countless hours on their rooftop terrace, wrapped in each other atop the lounge chairs and sharing a blanket as they gazed upon the stars. Andrea had told her she loved her for the first time here, and two years later Miranda had knelt on one knee and asked her to spend the rest of their lives together.

It seems like a lifetime ago now. Miranda can hardly remember what it felt like to be held in Andrea’s arms.

She sits alone, the moon her sole companion. The faint echoes of the city that never sleeps keeps away any semblance of quiet, for which Miranda is grateful. She isn’t sure when silence became so daunting. The house feels too big, too empty now. It makes her feel hollow. 

She wonders when staying up so late became her routine. She’d hardly even noticed it happening at first, too lost in her attempts to stop seeing Andrea’s face every time she closed her eyes. Better to keep busy, otherwise her mind wanders. If she ever does feel tired enough to sleep, she almost always chooses the couch in her study. She is not brave enough to rest upon what used to be their shared bed. 

They said it would get easier with time. They were wrong. Not that Miranda ever believed their words anyways. Andrea is a part of her she will never get rid of, a past she’ll never be able to move on from. She supposes that’s what happens when you meet the one meant for you, and then lose them forever. You carry them with you even though it hurts to remember them.

She reaches up to touch the wedding ring that hangs from the gold chain around her neck. She never takes it off. It’s the only piece of Andrea she has left.

Regret is an emotion she has become intimately familiar with. There are so many things she wishes she’d done differently. So many things she should have said.

Andrea's spirit haunts this house. Memories are attached to every room, every object. Times when they were a family, when it felt easy to hold her and talk to her, when their love had been alive and _good._ She remembers quiet nights spent by the fireplace, loud game nights with the girls, laughter ringing through the air.

Miranda has considered moving several times. The permanent ache in her chest always worsens whenever she has to return home from a long, gruelling day at work. But every time she starts looking at other houses, every time she imagines saying goodbye to the place where her daughters grew up and her love for Andrea bloomed, the sense of loss splits her chest open. So she lives with the constant pain, and lets herself drown in her memories. It's the only time she feels at peace.

  
_Sorry can't save me now,_

_Sorry I don't know how,_

_Sorry there's no way out_

_But down._

She misses her children almost as much as she misses her. The only saving grace is that they did not shut her out completely, even though for a time Miranda feared she’d lost them too.

She knows they blame her for the divorce. She knew even before it happened that Andrea leaving would break their family apart like scattered shards of glass that once belonged to a beautiful sculpture. After all her previous divorces, Miranda and her girls always managed to return to normalcy, to find their balance again. But never after Andrea.

How could she explain it to them? How could she make them understand that even though she blames herself too, it was not entirely her fault? That Andrea had given up too? How could she tell them about how sometimes love isn’t enough, that sometimes it grows cold and empty no matter how much you try to keep it alive?

They call fairly regularly, thank heavens. Twice, maybe three times a week, depending on how busy they are with their final year of college. Their visits are short and far apart, and the time in between feels like Miranda is travelling down a dark tunnel. Even though they try to pretend like coming home is something joyful, Miranda can see they’re missing something too.

No matter how lively the conversation is during meals, they are all hyper-aware of the empty place at the table where Andrea used to sit. There is a vacant armchair in the living room that Miranda could never bring herself to throw out. The family portrait of the four of them still hangs over the fireplace, because it is too beautiful, and Miranda doesn’t know what she could possibly replace it with anyways.

With her family life in shambles, and without her children to distract her most of the time, Miranda’s only lifeline is her work. She drowns in it with the hope that focusing on _Runway_ will numb everything else. Her hours are even longer than before, and very rarely does she leave the office before 10 p.m. Yet, no matter how much she works herself raw-- how desperately she tries to shut everything out-- she feels _empty_. The passion she used to have for her job has fizzled out somewhere along the way. Colours are dull, beauty evades her, food is tasteless, winters feel colder.

Miranda goes through the motions because it’s the only way she knows how to survive. She drags herself along, crawling on her hands and knees, tired and hungry and lost. She wonders how long she can continue like this for. She wonders when she will finally break.

_Taste me, the salty tears on my cheek,_

_That's what a year-long headache does to you._

_I'm not okay, I feel so scattered,_

_Don't say I'm all that matters._

_Leave me,_

_Déjà vu._

It comes in the form of a phone call. 

She’s in a meeting with Nigel when Caroline calls her and tells her the news.

“Andy’s getting married.”

Her world unravels. Excruciating pain shoots through her chest, so sharp it takes her breath away. A chain wraps around her neck, cutting off the words that race through her mind, silencing the cry that slices its way up her throat. She is unaware of her phone dropping from her hand, her arm spasming and weighed down by an invisible force. Nigel calls her name, but his voice sounds muffled and far away, hardly making it through the loud ringing in her ears. She tries to gasp for air, but the pressure on her chest makes it impossible to breathe. 

The searing pain in her knees makes her realise she has collapsed onto the hard, unforgiving floor. She is vaguely aware of Nigel rushing to her side, but her world is an incomprehensible blur.

Fleeting memories swirl through her mind in distorted images. She sees her daughters' faces when she held them in her arms for the first time. She sees them taking their first steps, playing the piano under warm stage lights and grinning at her over the audience, crawling into her bed in the middle of the night and cuddling close after a nightmare.

She sees Andrea’s smile, the bright one she used to give all the time before their love turned cold. She sees brown eyes, gold like honey under the morning sunlight; how beautiful Andrea looked before she leaned in to kiss Miranda for the first time; how breath-taking she was walking down the aisle towards her, dressed in white and wearing the most ethereal smile Miranda had ever seen. She sees Andrea’s tears, the distance between them on the same bed where they’d held each other close for countless nights, her vacant expression as she gave Miranda her wedding ring and walked away without a backward glance.

It’s hard to tell if the tears are from the physical agony or the pain the memories bring. All she can hear is Nigel shouting something indiscernible before the edges of her vision darken. Her last thought is that she wishes she had more time. She wants to watch her babies grow up, to be there for all the important moments to come. She wants to see Andrea one last time.

She is consumed by shadows.

Finally, silence.  
  


_If you need me,_

_Want to see me,_

_You better hurry,_

_I'm leaving soon._   
  


Scattered sounds and broken voices filter through the darkness. There is the faint, steady beeping of a heart rate monitor and other sounds she does not recognise. The pain in her chest is still there, turning in on itself under her ribs. She feels cold and disorientated, floating somewhere between wakefulness and oblivion. A door opens and closes, followed by footsteps and soft voices that sound muffled and thick with tears.

“She looks so pale. I’ve never seen her look so small.”

“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have told her over the phone.”

Her chest tightens impossibly more.

“It’s not your fault, Caro. She needed to know. It wouldn’t be fair to her if we knew and she didn’t, or if she found out any other way.”

“I know, I know. I just- We should have been with her.”

“Come here.”

The sound of crying makes her want to open her eyes. She desperately needs to hold her daughters in this moment, to comfort them and assure them that everything will be alright. But no matter how much she wills herself to move, she is frozen. Her eyelids are so heavy that it's as if they're stuck together. Her unresponsive body doesn’t feel like her own. Everything is dark.

She wonders if she’ll ever be able to hug her girls again. If she’ll be able to tell them how much she loves them, how proud of them she is, how much she wishes she’d done things differently. Even though she has never been religious, she sends a silent prayer to any possible deity above that her daughters have a happy, fulfilling life, that they find love, that they learn from her mistakes. She prays for Andrea to find the happiness that Miranda had been unable to give her.

The thick, suffocating blanket that covers her somehow becomes heavier, and she slips back into nothingness.

.oOo.

The next time she becomes aware of her surroundings, the girls are no longer crying. It’s a relief, because she cannot bear to feel so helpless while her babies are hurting.

“Where is she?” She recognises Cassidy’s voice somewhere to her left, and finds solace in the familiar _tap tap tap_ that is her nervous habit of drumming her fingers.

“She’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“How are you so sure she’ll come?”

“Because that’s just the kind of person she is, Cass. You and I both know it.”

Miranda feels panic and anticipation flood through her like an avalanche. The hope she has not felt in years lights up inside her like new-found sparks from a long extinguished flame. Could it be true? Are they talking about Andrea?

A door bursts open, and then - 

“Oh my God.”

_Andrea._

“Girls,” she whimpers, and then the sound of three pairs of feet running towards each other.

The sound of Andrea crying is even more agonising than her daughters', but a moment later it is made far worse. She can’t tell which sobs belong to whom, but she can clearly picture them huddled together beside her bed, crying on each others’ shoulders.

Miranda wishes more desperately than she ever has before. She craves to get out of this god-forsaken confinement, to walk towards her three girls and take them in her arms, to tell them how much she loves them. She wishes to kiss Andrea, to bury her face in her smooth neck, run her fingers through her hair. She wants to beg for forgiveness, to be given a second chance, to tell her how lost she is without her, how her life has no meaning if she’s not by her side. 

But no words come out. She remains unmoving, surrounded by blackness. She is cursed to stay still and listen to the sounds of sorrow emanating from the three people she loves most in this world. The agony in her chest is far worse than what she experienced before.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Andrea sniffles. “I can’t believe it. She looks so…”

She does not finish the sentence, but Miranda hears her start crying again. She knows the sound far too well.

“Thanks for coming, Andy. We didn’t know who else to call.”

“Well, I’m not sure she’d want me here, but I couldn’t stay away.” Andrea chuckles, but it sounds lifeless and devoid of any levity.

“You’re wrong. She’d want- She _wants_ you here.” 

Miranda is incredibly grateful to Cassidy in that moment for voicing what she is unable to say.

“How can you think that? We haven’t spoken in nearly two years.”

“Because we _know_ her. You may not have spoken, but she misses you.”

A long silence, and then Andrea's disbelieving voice.

“What?”

“She’s never said it outright. You know what she can be like when she buries her pain deep down, trying not to feel it. But we can tell she’s been miserable without you. We’ve never seen her like this before. She’s spent the past two years looking like a zombie.”

Something in Miranda quivers and cracks at Caroline’s words. Her daughters are so perceptive, of course they could see right through her. Of course they knew that she was dying inside.

“There’s also the fact that she had a heart attack when I told her you’re getting married.”

 _“What?”_ It comes out in a small, shaky exhalation, but Miranda hears it perfectly.

There is warmth on her hand. For a moment, she thinks she’s imagining it, but then the caress grows firmer as fingers softly run over her skin. Her limp hand is gently enveloped in another, and Miranda doesn’t feel so cold anymore. She doesn’t need to open her eyes to see who is holding her hand like this. She’d recognise Andrea’s touch anywhere. 

“Oh, Miranda,” Andrea whispers in a broken voice, and Miranda’s heart breaks with it. She clings to the feeling of Andrea’s hand like it’s the only thing that will keep her alive.

No matter how much she wants to savour this moment, to hold on to the sensation of Andrea’s touch after being starved for it for so long, her senses dissolve into one another. No matter how much she fights against it, her consciousness slips away from her again, robbing her from the feeling of Andrea.

_Call my girls and tell them that I love them,_

_And I'll miss them,_

_And I'm sorry._

What seems like endless hours later, but could have been minutes or days, sounds finally begin to filter into her darkened mind. It takes her a moment to process Andrea’s voice talking over the hospital machinery and the rhythmic thumping of pacing footsteps.

“No, I won’t be home tonight either,” Andrea is saying, but Miranda hears no response after her pause. It is completely quiet, and she realises she is alone with Andrea.

“No, Jack, I already told you. I’m staying at the hospital again.

"Why? Because she's my ex-wife…

"Well _of course_ I care about her well-being!

" _What?_ I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that. You know what, I’m gonna hang up now.

"No, don’t _‘babe’_ me, I really don’t need this right now.”

Miranda knows that tone of voice well. Andrea was never quick to anger, but Miranda has heard that particular angry timbre more times than she’d care to count. Her mind screeches to a halt when Andrea’s words finally filter through her muddled brain. _She cares about me?_

The embers of hope she’d felt earlier ignites into a full, bursting flame.

“You’re giving me an _ultimatum?"_ Andrea continues, and, oh, she is no longer angry. She is furious.

"So what you’re saying is that if I stay to look after the mother of the girls I consider my own, the wedding’s off? I’m not allowed to care for the person I was married to for _seven years?_ That’s ridiculous Jack, what--”

Andrea cuts herself off, and the silence is laden with a tension that Miranda can feel despite her comatose state.

“Fine, then. Call off the wedding.”

If Miranda wasn’t connected to an oxygen machine, she would have lost her breath. She is stunned, her disbelief making it hard to concentrate on Andrea’s next words.

“You heard me, cancel the wedding! I don’t appreciate being handed ultimatums. A word of advice, maybe in future don’t try to manipulate someone who you’re about to marry. It doesn’t set the right tone to spending the rest of your life with someone. Goodbye, Jack.”

The silence is deafening. Miranda wishes she could see Andrea’s face, offer her comfort, show her the endless gratitude that is flowing through her right now like an invigorating current. After a long moment, she hears a muted sound before Andrea’s cries fill the room.

 _“Fuck,”_ she whispers, muffled as if Andrea has buried her face in her hands.

The sound of Andrea’s pain, so defeated and miserable, makes Miranda want to take her in her arms, hold her close and never let go.

Andrea’s mournful tears are the last thing Miranda knows before oblivion envelopes her once more.

  
  


.oOo.  
  


“She’s been out for a whole week!” Cassidy exclaims anxiously, and the sound filters into Miranda’s mind with jarring force. “Can the doctors really not do _anything?_ Isn’t that what they’re here for?”

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart.” Andrea’s soothing voice warms Miranda from the inside out. “But there’s nothing else we can do. The doctors said we just have to wait and hope she’ll wake up.”

Miranda feels like she’s choking on invisible sobs. She wants to scream that she's right here, that she’s _alive._ She fights with everything she has, willing her eyes to open. When the darkness around her prevails, she feels like wailing in powerless despair.

“Ladies,” an unfamiliar voice says from further away. “Visiting hours end in five minutes.”

“Okay, they’ll say their goodbyes. Thanks, Julia,” Andrea says, and Miranda is certain that she has that friendly, polite smile on her face. “Come on, girls. It's my turn to stay the night. Say your goodbyes and you can come back tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Caroline mumbles. “Do you need anything from your place?”

“Nah, I have everything I need. Thanks, kiddo.”

Footsteps approach Miranda, and the feel of two hands taking both of hers feels like sharp relief. She urges her fingers to move, to wrap around her daughters’ hands, but they remain limp and motionless in their soft grasp.

“Bye, mom,” Cassidy says softly. Miranda feels silky hair tickling her cheek and lips pressing against her forehead. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Bye, mom.” Caroline repeats the motions of her sister, placing a kiss on Miranda’s cheek. Before pulling back, however, she whispers four words that pierce Miranda’s heart between her ribs. “Please wake up soon.”

Her hands are released. Three faint goodbyes are said before two pairs of footsteps fade away. A door shuts, and the room is bathed in silence. Miranda waits impatiently, wanting to listen to Andrea’s voice, desperate to hear even a handful of words, _anything._ Before she gets buried under nothingness again.

A deep sigh comes from somewhere to her left, followed by the faint scraping of a chair moving across the floor. Her hand is held between two warm ones, a thumb brushing over the back of her hand in soothing circles, tracing the dips of her knuckles. 

“Miranda,” Andrea begins, and she sounds exhausted. “Please. You have to wake up.”

There's a shaky inhalation, and Miranda knows Andrea is crying. Her weakened heart wants to leap out of her chest.

“You can’t leave us, do you hear me? You can’t do this to us. Cassidy and Caroline don’t deserve it. _I_ don’t deserve it. There is still so much for you to do.” Andrea sniffs, and her hands squeeze Miranda’s.

“Do you remember all the plans we had? All the things we wanted to do? You wanted to take me to Greece. I had the most amazing plans for our ten year anniversary. We were going to take the girls on a safari in Africa like we promised them when they were sixteen and they had that phase where they watched animal documentaries all the time...

“Do you remember what you told me on Valentine's Day, the third year of our marriage? I do. You said, ‘I could not bear to lose you, because in losing you I would lose myself.’ Do you remember saying that to me?"

 _Yes,_ Miranda wants to say. _I remember._

"I think it’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. But for some reason, I forgot you ever said that for a while. I think when I stopped hoping we would get better, I made myself believe that you'd be fine without me. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? God, I feel so stupid.

"I'm sorry I left. I've regretted it every single day. I shouldn’t have given up, I should have stayed and remembered your words. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since I came here. They’ve been playing on my mind like a broken record, and I’ve been wondering what on earth made me walk out the door. It was the biggest mistake of my life."

_Oh._

There is a sudden, powerful shock that goes through Miranda until she feels it radiating at the very edges of her being. She is so overcome with emotion that she can hardly centre herself enough to listen to what else Andrea has to say. 

“I tried to move on from you. I tried to forget you, even though I thought about you every day. I know it was wrong, but I think I used Jack to get over you. I think I agreed to marry him just so I could feel the weight of a ring on my finger again, hoping it would give me the same feeling of security that yours did. I see how stupid that was now. I don’t think I could ever move on from you no matter how hard I try. Nobody else could live up to you.”

There is a long stretch of silence. Miranda feels breathless, like the entire universe has opened up above her. Andrea’s words have torn her to shreds and pieced her back together again. The hope she has always claimed to live on blazes strong and bright, such a sweet feeling that it’s almost a physical pain. She aches for her Andrea.

“Please, Miranda,” she begs, her voice breaking with tears. “Wake up. This can’t be the end. I have so much left to say. Like how much I’ve missed you, how much I wish I could go back in time and do things differently, how much I love you despite everything. Please wake up. We need you to wake up. I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t.”

Fingers reach up to trace over her brow and down to caress her cheek. The touch stirs something in Miranda. It feels as if she’s flying, surging somewhere without direction. She is weightless, swept away by a force she does not know but fills her with warmth and safety.

Her eyes flutter open.

For a moment, everything is too bright. She blinks against it, trying so hard to regain her balance that she almost misses the gasp that leaves Andrea.

_Andrea._

Miranda turns to her left, and there she is.

Her eyes are red and bloodshot, the dark circles under them sinking in sharp contrast to the paleness of her skin. She is looking at Miranda with a hopeful, disbelieving expression, as if Miranda has just risen from the grave upon command. She looks more beautiful than ever.

“Miranda?” Her voice trembles, but it sounds divine to hear Miranda's name fall from her lips.

Opening her mouth to speak, to apologise, to say all the things she wishes she’d said sooner, Miranda chokes at the dryness of her throat. All that comes out is a pitiful, hoarse little noise.

“Shh,” Andrea soothes, and reaches over to grab something from the nearby table. “Here.”

She offers Miranda ice chips, feeding them into her mouth. Miranda's eyes almost flutter close at the sensation of the cold water sliding down her throat. She manages to keep them open though. Andrea is still gazing at her with that expression of wonder still on her beautiful face. She is such a sight for sore eyes that Miranda feels hers sting with overwhelming emotion.

“Andrea.”

Her voice is weak and rough, but it fills the space between them like a benediction. It feels incredible to have the name roll off her tongue again after so long.

Andrea bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry, Miranda” she cries, her shoulders shaking harshly. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left.”

Miranda reaches up with all her remaining strength, cupping Andrea’s cheek in her palm.

“I’m sorry too,” she rasps. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

There are tears slipping down her cheeks, but Miranda hardly notices them. She is too busy taking in the love of her life, drinking her in like a dying woman in a desert. A sob is ripped from Andrea as she leans closer to Miranda, tenderly pushing her dishevelled forelock away from her face with trembling fingers.

“I love you,” she says, and Miranda comes alive again. “I was so scared I wouldn’t be able to tell you, that it was too late. So I’m saying it now. I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

Miranda moves her hand from Andrea’s cheek to the back of her neck before pulling her closer. She needs the contact more than she needs air or water or ice chips or anything else in the world.

The touch of Andrea’s lips upon hers feels like coming home after spending a lifetime lost in a desolate nightmare. Andrea is so soft, so perfect and painfully familiar. The taste of Andrea’s salty tears makes the kiss all the sweeter, and Miranda weeps with joy and relief and a million other things. She is finally able to breathe.

“I love you, too. Andrea," she says, and kisses her again. "Please stay,” she begs in a broken whisper. “Come back to me.”

Andrea nods fervently, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against Miranda’s until they’re breathing the same air.

“I’m already here.”

Her voice is a promise laden with the echoes of the vows they made to each other so long ago.

Miranda holds her close, burying her face in her neck and tangling her fingers in soft waves of long hair. The familiar scent of Andrea centres her, healing all the broken parts that had been left abandoned in Miranda’s grief. Andrea holds her tightly, weeping healing tears against her shoulder, murmuring words of love and gratitude.

Maybe love is endless after all.


End file.
